


Friend-chip Goals

by There_Was_A_Star_Danced



Series: Heroes, Heroes, Husky Men of War [1]
Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: 1 - Chip, Carter and Newkirk Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hogan's Heroes Prompt Week, Lost and Found, Yeah Newkirk Feels That, You know that feeling, but you can't do anything about it?, carter is a good friend, when you don't know if you messed up or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/There_Was_A_Star_Danced/pseuds/There_Was_A_Star_Danced
Summary: Carter woke in the middle of the night to the rustling of Newkirk climbing down from the top bunk. It didn’t surprise him to hear the rustling, he mostly took things on fact, but it surprised him he’d woken up at all. Tonight’s, or rather last night’s mission, had been a tough one, with lots of reconnaissance and long periods of waiting. When they’d finally made it back, and to bed, Newkirk had almost kicked him in the head to get up to his bunk, he was so out of it. Carter privately suspected the only reason he’d kept away from the lower bunk was somewhere between habit and the probability of being a pillow.So why was Newkirk down on the floor, crawling around on all fours like a bear?~Newkirk has lost something important to him, and Carter offers to help him before it becomes an issue.~Written for Hogan's Heroes Prompt Week Day 1 - "Chip"
Relationships: Andrew Carter & Peter Newkirk
Series: Heroes, Heroes, Husky Men of War [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934452
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Friend-chip Goals

Carter woke in the middle of the night to the rustling of Newkirk climbing down from the top bunk. It didn’t surprise him to hear the rustling, he mostly took things on fact, but it surprised him he’d woken up at all. Tonight’s, or rather last night’s mission, had been a tough one, with lots of reconnaissance and long periods of waiting. When they’d finally made it back, and to bed, Newkirk had almost kicked him in the head to get up to his bunk, he was so out of it. Carter privately suspected the only reason he’d kept away from the lower bunk was somewhere between habit and the probability of being a pillow. 

So why was Newkirk down on the floor, crawling around on all fours like a bear? 

Gingerly, Carter leaned up on one elbow. 

“Newkirk?” he hissed softly. 

There was a thud, and a muffled curse as Newkirk hit his head. 

“Carter! You gave me a ruddy hear’ attack, mate!” Newkirk hissed back, scowling through the darkness at his friend. 

“Sorry. What are you doing?” 

“None o’ your ruddy business, that’s what! Nosey Parker.” Newkirk muttered as he kept scouring the floor with no light. 

“Do you want a match?” Carter asked, leaning curiously over the side of the bed. 

“No, thanks, mate.” 

“What are ya looking for?” 

A long-suffering sigh from Newkirk. “Carter…” 

“Sorry.” 

For a long minute, the only sounds were Newkirk’s grunts and breathing as he crawled over the floor by their shared bunks, scouring every inch he could think to reach on the ground. But eventually, time passed, and Newkirk sat back on his heels, one hand over his mouth and glancing a little wildly at the bunk where LeBeau lay. At the entrance to the tunnels. 

“You all right, Newkirk?”

“Yeah, sorry, mate, it’s just… I brought my good luck charm on the mission tonight, and now I can’t find it.” 

“Oh… Oh.” 

It was dangerous to bring personal tokens on missions. If you lost them, there was no getting them back. And worse, the Nazis could trace it back to you. To lose a personal item on a mission could endanger the entire operation at Stalag 13, and everyone knew that. It must have taken a lot for Newkirk to even admit to bringing along his good luck token, much less that he could lose it. 

Carter’s hand shot out before he could stop himself, and he squeezed Newkirk’s shoulder. Newkirk’s face turned to him, slightly green from what Carter could tell in the low light. 

“It’s alright, Newkirk, we’ll find it. What’s it look like?” 

Newkirk nodded and held up his fingers in a circle, slightly smaller than a half-dollar. 

“It’s just a poker chip, about so big, but one side is scratched up something fierce. It used to be my dad’s. He gave it to me when I left.” 

The last bit wasn’t strictly necessary, but Carter nodded and crawled out of bed. In another moment or two, they were both covering the floor with bare hands, sliding gently along the uneven floor to get any feeling of where the precious chip might have gone. Then they’d moved on to their respective beds and blankets, hoping it might have landed safely on the hard mattresses. But after searching long enough that they’d had to stop twice to avoid the notice of a guard, both men were feeling decidedly less hopeful. 

Carter, ever the optimist, refused to be too stricken. 

“It probably just fell out in the tunnel, Newkirk, honest. Don’t worry. We’ll find it.”

“Yeah, we’d better, or it’ll mean a heap of trouble for the guvnor if the Krauts get it first.” Newkirk shook his head, worry evident in the lines of his face. But each resigned himself, determined not to give credence to the ghost of a whisper of a threat so far. 

* * *

Newkirk was groggy in the morning, snapping at LeBeau for getting in his way and only barely standing to attention at Morning Roll-call. But then, he’d had a bad night. And the morning seemed to be shaping up worse as Colonel Klink called out to Colonel Hogan and the two officers moved forward to talk in low voices, Colonel Hogan turning to glance at his men more than once in the conversation. 

With a few threatening gestures from their German Vulture, the Colonels disbanded--a leisurely salute on Hogan’s side and a whiny “Diiiiis-missed!” from Klink. Newkirk hung around, waiting impatiently for any news from the Colonel why Klink had wanted to see him. But Hogan waved him off with a smile and something about waiting for breakfast before they worried about what the old sour-kraut said. 

While that eased Newkirk’s mind a little, no one could say that he was waiting with patience for LeBeau to make breakfast. After nervously tapping his feet and pattering his fingers on the wood, he looked around and noticed a presence missing. 

“Where’s Andrew?” he asked, glancing around him as if Carter had folded himself into a corner. 

“Down the tunnel,” LeBeau grunted, leaning over the pot on the stove. “He got back to the barracks before even me and shot down the hole like a homing rabbit,” the little Frenchman added with a roll of the eyes. 

“Ah, well, thank you, Louis. I think I’ll join him till breakfast is ready, yeah?” 

With shrugs from LeBeau and Kinch, Newkirk stood and went to the tunnel, smoothly going through the motions of signaling the tunnel opening and sliding down the ladder. As he reached the bottom, he called out cautiously. 

“Seen anything yet, Carter?”

“Hey, Newkirk! I found it!” 

Newkirk wouldn’t say he ran, but he picked up the pace. 

“You found it, are you sure?” Newkirk asked. 

For an answer, Carter grinned and held up a little red poker chip, decidedly worse for wear, but more heavily scratched on one side than the other. 

Newkirk could feel the tension pour out of him, and he smiled, taking it back and flipping it in the air familiarly. 

“Bloody ‘ell, I thought I’d seen the last o’ this.” Newkirk grinned. “But where d’you find it, mate?” 

“It was in a sock you wore last night. You were awful tired last night, so I thought you might not have remembered to take it out of your clothes.”

“You looked through a pile of muddy socks for my old poker chip?” 

“Well, sure. I mean, I didn’t look through all of them. I just found your outfit and checked. I do darn these socks, ya know.” 

Newkirk smiled, if only from the fact that Carter was unintentionally dodging Newkirk’s point. On second thought, though, he decided to only half-take the accidental out. 

“Well, however you did it, thanks, mate. I owe you one.” 

“One what?” 

“Don’t ruin it, Carter. A good turn. I owe you a favor.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Carter shrugged sheepishly, stuffing his hands in his capacious pockets. “Oh! And Newkirk, you know if you put a hole in the chip, you could probably hang it on your dog tags.” 

Newkirk eyed the chip, turning it over and over in his hand, considering. “You might be right, at that. Thanks again, Carter.”

Carter shrugged again, grinning. “Gee, don’t mention it.” 

“Alright then, I won’t,” Newkirk grinned back, clapping Carter on the back and making for the ladder as he heard LeBeau’s dinner bell go off. 

It was a brighter, happier Newkirk that popped his head above the edge of the ladder, followed closely by Carter as they pushed their way to the table. With the comforting feel of his good luck charm resting in his pocket, Newkirk could listen cheerfully to the plans his commanding officer laid for the day. And if he later used his pencil sharpener to bore a hole just large enough to slide his dog tag chain through it, he didn’t feel the need to advertise it. Nor did Carter when he found the pack of cigarettes tucked under his pillow, a carefully scrawled note on the front:

_ Thanks for chipping in, Mate. _

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so likely not my best work, but my first for the Hogan's Heroes Fandom, and my first in a while. :) I'm really getting excited for the rest of this prompt week! This was a ton of fun, I hope you enjoyed!  
> Addio till tomorrow! ~Bea


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